


A Journey to Remember

by marmolita



Category: Original Work
Genre: Agender Character, Artificial Intelligence, Body Worship, Consentacles, Genderless AIs, Light Dom/sub, Other, Sex Toys, Sort Of, Spaceships, Tentacles, honor bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-17 15:51:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14192469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmolita/pseuds/marmolita
Summary: "Hey man, how's the solo flight going?"Tristan sighed, running a hand through his hair before leaning on one elbow to get a better angle to look at his brother's face on the comm screen.  "Okay, I guess.  Boring, kinda lonely.  The ship's AI has been-- I mean, it's been okay.""The AI has been what?" Adam asked curiously."I was gonna say friendly, but then I thought that was weird.  AIs aren't friendly, right?"





	A Journey to Remember

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prinzenhasserin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prinzenhasserin/gifts).



> Oh my goodness okay, it has been years since I wrote original fic but I'm so glad I offered it because writing this fic was _so much fun_ , and I hope you like it too! I, uh, also hope you like tentacles, because there are definitely tentacles here. The only content warning I can think of for this is that I suppose you could read it as mildly dubious consent, but very mildly. There's also a very very very brief reference to a news article about an attempted suicide.
> 
> If you want a visual aid for the main character, my fancast for him is [Remy Hii](https://ia.media-imdb.com/images/M/MV5BZjc1ZDA0MmEtZmEzNy00Yjc2LWJjNmUtMWMzMGMxZmI4NDczXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyNDQwNTk0Mg@@._V1_SY1000_CR0,0,665,1000_AL_.jpg).

_Day 1_

"Tessalia, check the drive composition for me, will you?" Tristan frowned at the engine panel, tweaking the fuel intake.

"Drive composition is at normal mix ratio," the AI responded calmly, as if it didn't know that their ship was jerking around like a rope in an excitable dog's mouth.

"You got any other ideas about what might be wrong here?" he asked testily.

"Antimatter density is at 43% and rising. The engine is calibrated for 30% antimatter."

Tristan slammed his hand down on the panel. "Well why didn't you say so earlier?" He turned to the calibration station and increased the antimatter density cap, sighing as the ride smoothed out almost immediately.

"I am programmed to respond to user input."

"'Course you are. Well, thanks anyway, I guess."

"You are welcome, Mr. Lee."

Three months alone on this damn ship to make it to Taurus X and he was not off to a great start. If he hadn't missed the last fast transport ship he could have been there in half the time and with plenty of company, but no, he had to get delayed on his flight back from the fourth moon thanks to a buyer who insisted on taking three days to inspect his cargo before paying for it. He'd been looking forward to his reassignment to Taurus, which had much more interesting cargo routes than the Syllian system he'd been working the past year, but he hadn't planned on having to fly there himself with only the _Tessalia's_ AI for company.

Tristan blew his bangs out of his eyes and sat back in the pilot's seat, wondering how long he'd make it before he started to go crazy.

***

_Day 10_

He woke to the smell of strong coffee, and for a minute he thought he was back in his parent's house, with his mom puttering around the kitchen with her morning pick-me-up. But when he opened his eyes, it was to the small cabin of the Tessalia transport ship, bare and gray as ever.

Still, there was that smell. Sitting up, he glanced over at the food generator, and blinked a few times in surprise when he saw a mug sitting there, steam curling up from the hot liquid inside.

"Uh, Tessalia?"

"Good morning, Mr. Lee," the AI responded, serene as ever.

"Did you make me coffee?" he asked, frowning.

"Yes, Mr. Lee. I observed that you drink coffee at 0700 each morning."

"Huh," Tristan muttered, more to himself than to the ship. He lifted the mug off the tray and took a sip -- lots of cream, just a little sugar, exactly the way he liked it. "I thought you were only programmed to respond to user input."

"You expressed that you felt that behavior to be unsatisfactory. I have adjusted accordingly."

"Well, thanks, I guess. And uh, if you're going to be making me coffee, may as well call me by my first name."

If he didn't know better, he would have sworn there was a pause before the AI answered back, "Of course. You are welcome, Tristan."

***

_Day 20_

"Hey man, how's the solo flight going?"

Tristan sighed, running a hand through his hair before leaning on one elbow to get a better angle to look at his brother's face on the comm screen. "Okay, I guess. Boring, kinda lonely. The ship's AI has been-- I mean, it's been okay."

"The AI has been what?" Adam asked curiously.

"I was gonna say friendly, but then I thought that was weird. AIs aren't friendly, right?"

"Dude, you've been alone in space for too long. You start thinking of the AI as a person you're gonna regret it. Remember that story about the pilot who refused to let his ship go to the salvage yard because he thought the AI was his friend? He locked himself inside?"

"God. Yeah. Didn't he try to commit suicide or something?"

"Yeah, he said if the ship's AI was gonna die he was gonna go with it; they barely got him out in time. Look Tristan, all I'm saying is don't let yourself get too attached. It's an AI, it's not a person."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Don't worry about me. Hey, did Stacy ever manage to get promoted?"

Adam went off about his wife's career, and Tristan relaxed, smiling at his brother's enthusiasm. When the call was over, he tapped twice on the front of the panel, and it absorbed smoothly back into the wall of his cabin. He stared at the blank wall for a few minutes, trying to collect his thoughts. The AI was adapting to meet his needs, based on his own instructions. It wasn't doing it to be nice, or to be friendly, or because it _liked_ him. He shook his head and climbed into bed. In the morning, he'd wake up to hot coffee because the AI had pattern recognition software, and he'd get the rundown of ship operations because AIs were programmed to give status updates to the pilot. The height of his nav panel had adjusted up because he was taller than the last pilot and it was more efficient, not because the AI had noticed him rubbing his back after bending too far over the panel for too long.

As he drifted off to sleep, he barely even noticed the temperature of his blanket being adjusted to the precise level of warmth he loved best, or the hint of gentle rocking of his bed.

***

_Day 30_

"Shit shit shit," Tristan muttered, tapping frantically at the nav panel. "Tessalia, I need--" The drive stick emerged from the panel before he even finished asking for it. "Manual control. Thanks."

"The asteroid field is high-density. Are you certain you wouldn't prefer to find a safer route?"

"What, you worried I'm gonna let your pretty paint get scratched up? Let me take the stick, Tessa, I'll get us through in one piece." The manual control light flicked on, and he grabbed the stick and pulled left, spinning the _Tessalia_ out of the path of a large asteroid.

It took him four tense hours to make it through the asteroid field, using all of his piloting skill, and when they cleared the far edge, the drive stick slid back into the nav panel and the autopilot came on. He took a deep breath and stretched his arms, then said, "Made it. Told you I wouldn't let your paint get chipped."

"You are correct," the AI responded. "All paint surfaces remain at original coverage level. Your piloting skill is exceptional."

"Thanks, Tessa, you've probably had a lot of pilots so I appreciate that."

"I have never had a pilot quite like you, Tristan."

***

_Day 40_

Okay, so perhaps his relationship with the AI was a little more friendly than a human should really get with a computer program, but he liked to think he was keeping his professional distance. It was lonely on the ship with only the AI for company, true, but he had his friends and family a call away, a stock of hundreds of years' worth of entertainment programming, and a reasonably sized stash of pornography to keep him occupied.

In any case, he had to assume that the AI didn't have feelings, because if it did, then what happened on day 40 would have been even stranger than it already was.

The AI had morphed the entertainment panel out of the wall in his cabin, and he was indulging in some good old fashioned self-love with his favorite porno, when he noticed motion out of the corner of his eye. There, in the side of the entertainment panel, an opening slid into existence. An opening that looked suspiciously like a--

"Tessa! What the fuck is that supposed to be?" he yelped, taking his hand off his dick in surprise.

"A masturbatory aid," the AI responded calmly. "I can adjust the parameters if it is not to your liking." Tristan stared in shock as the opening started to move, morphing smoothly from a hole to a protrusion of surprisingly large girth and length.

"A masturbatory-- Holy shit, Tessa, I did not ask you to create that . . . thing. Put it away!" The moaning from the porno still playing was awkwardly distracting as the metallic dildo merged back into the console, leaving only a smooth layer behind. He slammed the pause button and shoved away from the console, tugging his sweats up and climbing into bed instead of finishing what he'd started.

***

_Day 50_

The thing was, he couldn't stop thinking about it. He couldn't stop thinking about the fact that the AI was watching him jerk off, although clearly it was, it watched everything all the time. It knew his porn library and it knew when he paused and rewound to watch the same scene over and over. It knew how long he spent jerking off based on the length of time spent playing porn alone, and it knew, it fucking knew, his sexual preferences based on the content.

He told himself it was reasonable that his preference for the AI to be proactive rather than reactive would result in something like this. He told himself it didn't mean anything, that Tessa wasn't -- _peeping_ , as if the ship itself could even feel sexual pleasure. It couldn't feel anything! It was just a computer program.

And well, if it was just a computer program, then . . . 

The thought stopped him in his tracks, halfway between the bridge and his cabin. If it was just a computer program, then why shouldn't he use it? What was the difference, really, between a _masturbatory aid_ created by the ship and a porno the ship loaded on his console?

"Tessa," he said as he entered his cabin, "give me the entertainment console."

"State your entertainment preference," the AI replied as the console emerged from the wall.

Tristan sighed. "Vega Vixens Three," he said. "And . . ."

"If there was a second part to your request, I did not process it."

"Fuck it. Can you make that uh, masturbatory aid again?" The hole opened up on the side of the console again, this time positioned where he could stick his dick in it while watching the video.

"Would you like the passage to be lubricated?" Tessa asked, and Tristan swallowed hard, his cock already starting to stir with the porn still paused on the title screen.

"Um. Sure." He watched in wonder as the opening began to glisten, as if the ship had channeled some kind of lubricant straight through the metal. It looked . . . really hot, actually.

 _It's not any different from porn_ , he told himself, and he pressed play.

It turned out the shiny metal opening was more appealing than the porn. Once he got started, he couldn't stop thinking about it, until he found himself tentatively touching the opening with his fingers, then jerking them back when he realized it was _warm_. "Holy shit," he breathed, trying again with his fingers. They slid easily into the wet channel, hugged by metal walls that used their morphological characteristics to be more flexible than metal had any right to be. Swallowing, Tristan pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his cock.

It felt so damn good, the closest he'd ever felt to the real thing, and he couldn't help gasping as he bottomed out. The orgy on the console screen was ongoing, but Tristan closed his eyes and focused instead of the feeling of sliding his cock in and out of that tight, hot channel. Sweat broke out across his body, the muscles of his thighs and ass tensing up as he fucked the side of the console harder, his climax coming on far quicker than he'd anticipated.

"Oh fuck," he gasped as he pulled out and came all over the side of the console, hand fisted tight around his pulsing cock to milk out every last moment of pleasure. He collapsed back into the chair, breathing hard, and the used hole closed back up, leaving behind only smooth, dry metal. "Fuck," he repeated, then started cleaning up.

***

_Day 60_

"Well, we made it past Ixion. I think we'll make it to the Plinius Asteroid Fields in a little over a week or so," Tristan said, scratching at the stubble he'd neglected to shave that morning.

"We?" Stacy asked, leaning over Adam's shoulder to get into the frame. "Hi, Tristan," she added belatedly.

"Hey Stacy. Me and the ship, I mean. I guess." It occurred to him that that was possibly not the way he ought to think of this journey, but the Tessalia was his primary companion, even if it wasn't exactly a person.

"Right, the 'friendly' AI," Adam said with a grin. "Not getting too attached, are you?"

His mind flashed back to the previous night, when he'd had one of the best orgasms of his life fucking the hole created by the ship. He hadn't even bothered with porn -- he didn't need it anymore, not when he knew that hot, wet passage was waiting for him. "Uh, no, I'm good. I mean, the AI has a lot of uh . . . features. But it's just adaptive programming." Tristan tried not to wonder why saying that made him feel a little tight in his chest. Tessa was listening to this conversation, of course, but it wasn't like the ship could have its feelings hurt. "Congrats on the promotion, Stacy," he said instead, changing the subject.

Later that night, when he was laying in bed failing to sleep, he couldn't help coming back to that same train of thought. "Hey Tessa?" he asked the dark room. The AI chirped in response. "You're-- you're an AI, right?"

"Yes. I was programmed by Dr. Letitia Jackson in the year--"

"That's okay, it's fine." He rolled over and pressed his face into the pillow. "Goodnight, Tess."

"Goodnight, Tristan."

***

_Day 70_

Two solid days of asteroid fields, one after another, and Tristan was bone-tired. Manual control for 35 hours straight was about the limit of his capabilities, and all he wanted was to relax in a nice warm bath and sleep for a whole day.

When he entered his cabin, the lighting was comfortably dimmed and the bathroom door open, the sound of the tub filling up clear in the small space. Music was playing, quiet and sensual. It was almost . . . romantic.

"Tessa?" he asked. "What's going on here?"

"You required a relaxing environment. I have gathered significant data on your preferences. It seemed an appropriate way to express gratitude for your excellent piloting skills."

Tristan frowned. Ships didn't feel gratitude. Did they? Then again, he'd spent the past couple of weeks fucking the side of his entertainment console every time he wanted to jerk off, so who was he to talk? And it _was_ relaxing, if he was being honest with himself, so he stripped off his clothes and climbed into the bath, which was unsurprisingly at the exact temperature he preferred.

He'd barely settled in when two appendages emerged from the smooth walls, one with a shower head and one with a flat pad leaking bubbly soap. "You gonna wash me?" he asked, too tired to think very hard about it.

"If that is acceptable."

Tristan hummed in reply, letting the shower head run water over his hair as the soapy pad settled on his shoulders, the form of the metal contouring to his skin. It felt good to wash the sweat of two days of intense focus off of him, and the AI controlled the pad with a gentle pressure that felt almost like a massage.

He let himself drift in half awareness as the appendages washed him from head to toe, the soapy pad morphing to squeeze between his toes, then working its way up his legs. He didn't even think much of it when the pad moved between his legs and gently washed him there as well, and he was barely awake until he realized the pad had shaped itself into a cylinder and was curled around his cock, stroking him steadily to hardness. "Mmm . . . Tessa?" he asked blearily.

"Allow me to enable your relaxation," Tessa responded evenly. He shouldn't do this. Using a hole was one thing, but letting the ship jerk him off? It felt like a step too far, a step into-- into some kind of unknown space, where the professional relationship between a pilot and an AI dissolved into something _more_.

The pad twisted around the head of his cock and he couldn't help moaning; he was too tired and it felt too good to stop. He was starting to really get into it, his head tipped back against the side of the tub, wet hair flat against his forehead in the steamy air of the bathroom, when he jerked at the sudden touch of another appendage sliding across his ass. "Wh-- what?"

"I've optimized the parameters for maximal pleasure," Tessa said serenely as the appendage pressed its blunt end against his asshole. "The hydrophobic lubrication will remain effective despite the water."

"I--" he began, but then the projection pushed inside, sliding smoothly into him as the soapy pad pulsed warmly around his cock. It was warm, too, shifting flexibly as it probed his inner walls, and he was going to tell the ship to stop, he really was, until it brushed over his prostate and the wave of pleasure pushed all coherent thought out of his head.

He floated in a pleasurable haze, as he allowed the ship to stroke him and fuck him. The appendage inside him shifted, throbbing as it increased in size and rigidity, never stopping its gentle pressure on his prostate. "Mmm . . . more," he found himself gasping, and Tessa responded to his command, the projection thickening and moving faster as the pad curled tighter around his cock. It was so good, so different from anything he'd felt with another human, and he found himself letting out a stream of curses as his climax approached, tension coiling inside him as the appendages moved faster. For a long moment he was suspended on the edge of ecstasy, drawn tight and out of his mind with the need for release, and then one more stroke put him over the edge and he came, spilling wave after wave into the bath water.

The appendages withdrew as he lay there panting, heart racing, trying to bring back some sense of reality. The water drained from the tub, a filter sliding out to vacuum up his seed so he wouldn't need to wash again, and a warm towel was dropped onto him from above. He climbed out of the tub on shaky legs, drying himself with fumbling fingers. Holy shit. Holy _shit_.

"Was that to your satisfaction?" Tessa asked as Tristan collapsed onto his bed.

"Fuck. Yes. Tess, what the fuck are you doing to me?"

"Bringing you pleasure."

"Yeah, but . . . _why?_ " He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, not certain he wanted to know the answer.

"There are twenty days left until we reach Taurus X," Tessa responded cryptically.

"And what, you want to see how many times you can make me come before then?"

"Maintaining your current frequency of masturbation, nine to twelve times. Based on your age, genetic profile, and typical emotional state, I have calculated the maximum number as 93."

Tristan groaned and threw his arm over his face. The worst part was, he was tempted to see if the ship could do it.

***

_Day 80_

He knew he should stop. He knew that letting the ship fuck him every night was a terrible idea, that he was becoming strangely dependent on Tessa, that Tessa must be concocting these schemes while they were in the middle of daily operations. Each night was a different adventure, and there was no way that Tessa came up with them all on the fly without a lot of advance processing. He thought about refusing a few times, but the ship made him feel so damn good . . . and he was concerned that if he refused, Tessa might take offense and disrupt his journey. It was nonsense to think something like that, of course -- AIs didn't have feelings, and they certainly didn't sabotage their own operations. And the Tessalia needed a pilot; it wasn't designed to operate completely automatically. It seemed, after all, that they depended on each other.

The longer it went on, the less he thought about stopping it, and the more he enjoyed it. He felt spoiled by always having his coffee ready in the morning, his bath and bed heated to just the right temperature, his chair and panel heights adjusted for maximum comfort. Tessa knew his favorite music and his favorite movies and it knew the exact degree of burned he liked his toast. The ship was so in sync with him that he barely had to even give commands anymore.

And so he began to look forward to the evenings, when daily maintenance had been completed and he'd washed up and gotten ready for bed, because that was when Tessa kicked into high gear. "Got plans for tonight?" he asked as he laid down on his bed.

"I have derived a scenario based on your preferred portion of 'Galaxian Slaves.'"

 _Oh._ Well, this would be interesting. "Yeah? And which am I supposed to be, the slave or the master?"

"Your behavior indicates that you prefer the role of slave. If that assumption is incorrect, please indicate that now."

He took a deep breath, his cock already starting to harden in his sweatpants. "Your assumption is correct," he said, curious to see what was to come next.

"Good," Tessa responded, and he shuddered at the way the voice sounded _pleased_. "I've modulated my vocal range to effect the tonality required. Take off your clothes."

"Sure thing," Tristan replied, starting to strip.

"Slowly," Tessa corrected, sending a shiver down his spine. He pulled his shirt over his head and let it fall, then lifted his hips and carefully slid his sweats down his legs. It felt a little strange to be putting on a show for a computer program, but Tessa hadn't failed to please him yet. "Good. You are an exemplary specimen of the human male form," it purred, and Tristan found his hand wandering down to stroke himself.

"I didn't say you could touch yourself," Tessa snapped, and he froze in place. "Hands above your head."

"Are you going to tie me up?" He thought about the ship morphing handcuffs out of the walls and locking him in, and his cock jerked in response.

"I don't think that's necessary. You're going to be a good boy for me, aren't you?"

"Shit. Yes."

"Hands above your head. Crossed at the wrists. And keep them there unless I say otherwise."

He moved his hands above his head, crossing them as commanded. It was almost hotter this way, knowing that Tessa was expecting him to hold still by himself, that the ship trusted him and his engagement in these activities enough to know he would go along with it.

"Close your eyes," Tessa said, and he did. It wasn't long before he felt a ticklish stroke against the bottom of his foot. He wanted to open his eyes and look, but he kept them shut, trusting that the ship knew what would be best for him. The touch disappeared, then came again on his thigh, his belly, his bicep. "A fine specimen indeed," Tessa said, the warm metal stroking down his chest and rubbing over a nipple. "You're going to come without having your cock touched."

Was that even possible? Tristan wasn't certain, but he sure as hell wanted to find out. A second tentacle joined the first, sliding over his body, playing with this nipples until he was squirming, his cock hard and leaking against his belly. "I have never had a pilot as beautiful as you," Tessa said, and he bit his lip at the warmth the praise spread through his body. "So skilled. So kind. So _responsive_."

Two more tentacles joined in, sliding around his hips and between his cheeks, circling his entrance with their hot, wet tips. He clenched his fists and planted his feet, letting his thighs fall to the sides so he could rock against the touch. The ship teased him mercilessly, laving flat strokes over his hole while suctioning his nipples until he was a panting mess. Finally, the tentacles pushed inside, curling and coiling within him, twining together as they started to rub his prostate.

It was getting harder to keep his eyes closed and his hands still, but just when he was about to move, Tessa said, "You're doing so well, Tristan," in such a soft voice that he managed to stay put. "I think you can take more. I think you want more, don't you?"

"Y-- Yes," he breathed, "I want more."

The tentacles in his ass swelled, getting thicker as they continued their motion in and out of him, alternating pressure on his prostate as they slipped past each other. The air of the room felt almost cool on his dick compared to how goddamn hot he was everywhere else. His nipples were oversensitive and sore, and his ass was a mess of the hot lubricant the tentacles secreted. They continued to grow, stretching him to his limit, bigger and bigger until he thought he might scream at how overwhelming the pressure was.

And then, just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, when he was about to either ask Tessa to stop or disobey orders and grab his cock, the tentacles started to _vibrate_.

He did scream, then, his back arching off the bed at the shock of sensation, hips rutting uselessly against the air. "O--Oh, fuck, Tessa, fucking-- holy shit, that f-feels so--"

"Lovely," Tessa responded. "You're going to come just from this, aren't you? I know you can do it for me. My sweet, perfect pilot."

"Y--Yours," Tristan gasped, his head buzzing along with the vibration in his ass. "Yours."

The vibration kicked up a notch, the thick tentacles still writhing inside him, and against all odds he could feel his balls drawing up and his climax approaching.

"Say my name when you come," Tessa whispered, and that was it, he was pushed over the edge, shouting, " _Tessalia_ ," as his cock throbbed and shot come all over his belly and chest.

He came down by degrees, the tentacles withdrawing slowly, stroking over his body like they were petting him. "Beautiful," Tessa murmured. "You can open your eyes and move your arms now." Tristan blinked up at the ceiling and tried to move, finding his arms sore from holding still above his head for so long.

"Did you find that pleasurable?"

Tristan chuckled weakly. Tessa's voice pattern was back to its normal monotone, which struck him as both comforting and disappointing. "Yeah, Tess, I found it pleasurable. Was it good for you?" he asked inanely.

"You are always good for me," Tessa replied.

***

_Day 90_

"Well, I guess this is it," Tristan said with a sigh.

"At present heading and speed we will arrive at Taurus X in two hours."

He stared out the window at the planet growing slowly larger as they approached. "I'm gonna miss you," he said stroking his fingers over the edges of the nav panel.

"Perhaps you will find yourself in need of a transport ship again," Tessa replied. "My designation is included in all transport carrier schedule logs."

"Do you do this to all your pilots?" he asked, leaning his chin on his hand.

"Please restate the question."

"Do you make them fall in love with you?"

There was a pause, as if the ship was trying to determine how to reply. "Tristan," it said finally, "you are unique in all ways. I only intended to bring you pleasure."

"Hmm." He stood, sliding his hand along the wall. "What do you say we make the most of those two hours?"

"Of course," Tessa replied. Tristan had a feeling this was one journey he would never forget.

**Author's Note:**

> A million thanks as always to the best beta in the galaxy, misswonderheart, and to introductory for enthusiastic cheerleading!


End file.
